


within an early tomb

by cesellia



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesellia/pseuds/cesellia
Summary: It was a funny thing, really. Listening to his friends fuss over how he needs to prioritise food over his art, he couldn't help but laugh at the irony of their concerns.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 157





	within an early tomb

**Author's Note:**

> this was completely unplanned and i wrote all of this in two hours, but i also give no apologies for however sloppy or unreadable this may be.
> 
> i came up with this idea after discussing yusuke's relationship with madarame and how it must've royally fucked him up with a friend

Madarame was never cruel to him. He was harsh and controlling, but his lessons were always in his best interests—every time bruises formed on his wrists and face, every time he went starving and was left crying out from the pain it caused him, his teacher was always there to say, ‘ _I love you, boy. And I would never do anything to hurt you if you didn’t deserve it. Understood?_ ’

“I understand, sensei.” Yusuke muttered to himself, nails digging into the emptiness of his stomach as he laid shivering on the couch in his dorm room. It was too cold and his body was too weak to make it over to his bed (he tried to, actually, and when he got up, he immediately fell forward on the sharp edge of the coffee table, leaving him in excruciating pain).

The pain hunger left was often unbearable—like nails being screwed into the intestines and toxic poisons splashing in the stomach. But that’s how it’s supposed to be, right? Madarame had always made an example out of it: _Let the pain serve as a reminder, boy, that you can do better than this. Allow the hunger to guide your paintbrush to make beautiful works of art. In soon time, the hunger will teach you, too, how to be beautiful._ And that was all that mattered to him, to be praised by his teacher for his artworks’ beauty as well as his own.

Others did not share that ideology, Madarame had explained to him when he was younger. The other Phantom Thieves had expressed concern over how little he could eat for long periods of time.

“Yusuke,” Makoto had said one day after class, “Are you _sure_ you won’t go out to eat with us? Akira has more money than he knows what to do with, he’d be happy to pay for you.”

He wanted to accept their offer, but the voice of his teacher echoed through his mind, _what have you done to deserve their kindness?_

“I'm afraid I will have to decline today,” Yusuke replied, “I have an art project due next week that I really should begin working on.”

That was often the end of it. They would let out an exasperated sigh and say that they'll send over some food but never do since none of them knew where in the dorms he lived—every one of them, except for Akira.

The one trait of his leader that he both admired and disliked was his inability to take no for an answer when he knew he was right (which he often was). Unlike the others, whenever Yusuke denied receiving food from them, Akira simply smiled and swung an arm around his shoulder—the act making him lose his balance—and suggested that they order takeout and that they hang out at his place for the evening.

Even if Yusuke tried to deny the offer further, Akira still wouldn't budge, and they eventually would end up in his dorm room—sitting on the cold surface of the floor, eating cheap ramen while his leader listened to him ramble on about the history of art and the aesthetics that followed.

Those were his fondest memories—being with someone who understood him and took the time to piece together the parts they didn't know, it was a trait the other Phantom Thieves lacked, but he could hardly blame them for not understanding—it wasn't like a lot of people actually did.

However, when Akira left and his mind settled back into the present, sickening dread and nausea would wash over him—hearing the voice of Madarame scolding him and even feeling the pain on his face where he used to hit him.

_What did I tell you, boy?_

Yusuke tried to ignore his teacher's voice, and after the trial, he did for awhile, but his voice would soon come back—haunting him, reminding him that he didn't know _how_ to take care of himself. When was he _allowed_ to eat? To spend his time not working? To accept the kindness that his friends offered him so graciously?

It was a sickening feeling, to realise that the man he despised the most was the only one who knew who he really was and knew how to take care of him. That was what separated him from the others—they had family, guardians, people outside of their group to confide in, to trust enough to take care of them when they couldn't.

It's a struggle he has learned that he needs to deal with on his own.

The phone on his bed lit up and began ringing. He ignored it at first, too tired to get up and head hurting too hard to want to hear more noise than he had to, but as it rang again and _again_ , he gave in and slowly rose up, ignoring the darkening of his vision as he stumbled over to his bed and swiped to call.

“ _Took him long enough to answer._ ” said a faint voice on the other side than he instantly identified as Morgana's.

“ _Morning, Yusuke_ ,” Akira yawned, “ _You didn't answer any of our texts last night, so I just wanted to call you to make sure you were all right._ ”

The sleepiness still present in his voice, the kindness that lingered off each and every one of his words—it made his heart flutter at how much Akira cared for his wellbeing. But it's not like it was a thing he would only do for _him_ , it was something he would do for any of the thieves when they needed it.

“Thank you, Akira, but I'm fine. I had just stayed up all night focusing on exams that I didn't have time to read our texts.” Yusuke responded, leaning on his bed frame for support as his legs became unreliable and— _since when was the room spinning?_

_Shut him out, boy. You don’t need him._

His voice faltered as he added on, “I'm sorry but I'll have to hang up now.”

Yusuke quickly clicked the red button before dropping his phone back on to the bed and following suite. His heart felt like it was going to implode, his head like the brain inside him was too large to fit into his skull. _Was it supposed to feel like this?_

Madarame had always been there to make sure the pain wasn’t _too_ severe to where he couldn't work—or even _breathe_ anymore. _But he's gone now so what am I supposed to do?_

As the world continued to spin around him—faster now, it seemed—, Yusuke buried his head underneath his pillow and prayed that it would all pass over soon.

He woke up to banging on his door—a loud, rapid knocking that suggested that whatever they were there for, it was _urgent_. 

Yusuke slowly rose to his feet—too tired now to worry about the palpitations and migraine that worsened with every step—and made it over to the door, opening it and hissing at the burning sunlight that pierced through his eyes.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders as he heard the smooth voice that could only belong to his leader, “God, you look _awful_. When did you last eat?”

“It’s been...six days, I believe.”

“ _Six_?”

The artist flinched at the sudden rise of his voice before responding, “You shouldn't fret, Akira. Sensei had made me go _weeks_ without food before. Six days is nothing to me.”

Akira sighed, pulling him to the sofa as he spoke, “Yusuke, _you're sick_. I think you have a fever, and you haven't spoken one sentence that wasn't slurred,” he sat down next to him, taking his hand into his, “You don't need to keep doing this. Madarame is gone. He's not here anymore to punish you for being human.”

“But,” Yusuke's voice wavered as he spoke, “ _I can still hear his voice in my head._ ”

A silence fell over the two of them—a deafening one that hurt more than noise and he _needed_ to hear his leader's voice again, it was the only thing that was keeping him from spiralling.

“Whatever you're hearing is not Madarame, not anymore. And I can't promise that the voices will ever leave,” Akira squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes—his smile soft and warm, “But I'll always be here to make sure they never hurt you again.”

When Yusuke didn’t respond, Akira pulled him close, his lips brushing against his forehead as he whispered, “ _I promise_.”

**Author's Note:**

> mes [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cesellia) / mes [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/lyilenor)


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